


my mother was an immigrant

by ninemoons42



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I know Marvel greenlighted the HYDRA Cap story, I'm making a choice to ignore that they want to write some bumbling ill-conceived darkfic, I'm usually all about the AUs, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Steve Rogers didn't go into the ice for this, Steve Rogers is Not Hydra, and whoever did that is a very bad person, but any AU in which Steve is a Nazi is an AU that is problematic in the extreme, but given they made a decision like that, say no to HYDRA cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve, still in Wakanda, is tired and grieving because of rumors that he's a Nazi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my mother was an immigrant

**Author's Note:**

> Go read this one as well, because it's so much better than mine: [Captain America is Not Hydra For Fuck's Sake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6982633) by [die_traumerei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei).
> 
> Pretty sure there're more of these stories, too, and there should be more of them, because STEVE ROGERS IS NOT HYDRA GODDAMMIT.

He’s heard the news.

Of course he’s heard the news. It’s only all over the place. It’s only the topic that’s been clogging up his social media feeds. He’s trying to punch things now, trying to beat up on a couple of extra-reinforced heavy bags, because he’s spent the last hour in a phone call, and that phone call was to an asshat named Thunderbolt Ross, and he knows he’s not allowed to punch the man’s lights out so he’s trying to kill the punching bags instead. 

Some splinter HYDRA cell releasing fabricated evidence to the world: “Sarah Rogers was a white supremacist, and she spent her entire life indoctrinating her son.”

Steve growls again as the hateful headlines parade through his head and he winds up, and he can feel his knuckles split in the instant that they make contact with the heavy bag and now there’s sand all over the floor, flung in an arc, and his mother’s memory is as scattered as that sand.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and he’s not winded because of the punching bag. He’s winded because there are just too many lies. He’s winded because there are just too many people trying to do wrong to the world.

Red sparks crackle around the scattered sand. He can hear the gentle footsteps behind him. He doesn’t turn around when he says, “I’m not sure you should be around me right now.”

“You were there for me when I needed a friend.” A quietly cleared throat. “I have spoken to T’Challa, and asked him if it would be wise to bring your friend out of the cold for a day. I think you need to be with him.”

“My mother doted on Bucky just as much as she did on me, and it would’ve broken her heart to see what HYDRA did to him. And now HYDRA is doing this to her.” Steve shakes his head, hard. “I have half a mind to go out there and –- I don’t honestly know. I wish I could do the same thing that Bruce does. When he turns big and green people kind of have to listen to what he says.”

“Which is SMASH, I know, most of the time,” Wanda says. He can see her now. She is wrapped in her shawls, and her hair falls forward to hide her face. “I have a better idea, if you’re willing to listen.”

“Always,” Steve says. “Most of the time,” he amends after a moment. “I can be stubborn, I think you know about that.”

“Never as stubborn as my brother was.”

Steve snorts, softly, and Wanda smiles in a slanted sideways kind of fashion, a brief shadow of grief sharpening the lines that radiate from the corners of her eyes.

“What’s this idea of yours?”

In response, she passes him her phone. It’s open to Twitter. There are highlighted messages. 

_Now I don’t know if I should still be wearing my Captain America shirts. I know the news is BS but some people actually believe it’s true._

_I believe in Steve Rogers. I wish there was another way to show it. Can’t do it with my t-shirt though. Not now._

He looks in Wanda’s direction. “That hurts.”

“Tell them that.”

That brings him up short.

She tilts her head at him. 

Steve glances at the Twitter posts again, and takes a deep breath, and is mindful of his 140 characters when he logs into his account. He namechecks the writers of the posts that Wanda had showed him:

_If you can’t wear or carry the shield now, then don’t. But please think of my mother, if you can. Sarah Rogers was an immigrant. - SR_

_Sarah Rogers was a nurse. She taught me to oppose bullies. She taught me to fight injustice. - SR_

_She was no white supremacist and she did not raise me to be one. Instead she taught me to honor everyone, to support everyone. - SR_

He runs out of words, and logs out, and sheepishly returns the phone. “I don’t know if that will help.”

“I think it will,” Wanda says, but she has a fleeting smile for him, a reassuring smile. “We just have to find the right place to start.”

“I have a few more suggestions for places to start,” says a new voice, and there is the King of Wakanda in his immaculate pinstripes and the understanding in the lines of his face. “If you would come with me, both of you.”

(It starts with Bucky’s sad smile when he remembers a bowl of beef stew.)

(It starts with a press conference of exactly one journalist: Trish Walker.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my friend [ekmisao](http://ekmisao.tumblr.com/).


End file.
